


But you're not what you thought you were

by ninthdreamie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parenting, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mark Lee/Na Jaemin are Cousins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23340148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninthdreamie/pseuds/ninthdreamie
Summary: It's one of those nights when Jaemin doubts his own existence, but his friends make him feel like he matters.
Relationships: Mark Lee (NCT) & NCT Dream Ensemble
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89
Collections: dream jukebox fest: round one





	But you're not what you thought you were

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, thank you so much to mod jump for making this fic fest! i really love lorde's music, and for that very reason i joined! i just wrote what kind of image Liability (Reprise) always gave me when i wrote this fic, and it's really simple, but i hope it gives you the comfort the way writing this did. enjoy! <3

Even if Jaemin has his headphones on and no longer hears the sounds surrounding him, he could still remember the things they said earlier. They’re louder than the alternative rock music he usually listens to, louder than his heartbeat, and he has been trying to get it out of his head. He has been trying for the past _three_ hours, and he has done most of his hobbies like playing the organ hoping he’d shrug it off.

But damn. Words just have a way when it comes to fucking one’s head.

_I didn’t want him to be born, and you know that._

He knows. He has known this since he was at an age where everything surrounding him began to matter, and he understands where his mother is coming from. Who would even want to bear a child at such a young age, right? Who would even want to be the reason why someone no longer pursued their dreams?

Who would even want to be a _burden_?

There. He could no longer hear the music he was listening to. All he could hear was his mom saying those very words, and he remembers the way she looked at him. He remembers the way her eyes looked under the dim lighting of the living room; if one probably looked closer, they would see the repressed heartbreak and hate in her tired, wrinkled eyes.

So Jaemin will probably hate himself for the rest of his life, for ruining his mom’s life. No matter how many times he’d get assured that he shouldn’t feel that way, and that it’s not his fault and it was beyond his control, he just couldn’t find it in himself to believe them. Not when his mom looks at him like that.

Not when she views him as her biggest nightmare.

So he stops the music, and takes off his headphones, placing it next to him on the bed. He proceeds to rest his face against his pillow, hoping that if he feels the material touch his face, he would immediately sleep rather than cry.

But if there is one thing Jaemin is bad at doing, it’s fighting back the tears.

Unsurprisingly, he cries against his pillow. It doesn’t immediately get to the wailing like in the movies. Instead, it starts with silence—he lets his tears flow and tries not to make a sound. After that, his lips begin to wobble, and the simple act of breathing gets harder. He tries to hold on to something, _something_ he could squeeze later on when it gets to the ugly part.

“Please don’t cry too hard,” He murmurs to himself, and then he starts to whimper. He still does his best to hold it in, but the tears slipping down his cheeks feel heavy against his skin, and it’s heavier when it dampens the pillow. And then his heart begins to ache, the twist in his stomach intensifies.

He starts catching his breath, like he ran two laps in a huge oval. His hands end up on the sheets of his bed; he squeezes them hard, hoping that doing this could stop him from crying. Hopefully.

And then he couldn’t keep track of himself anymore, because his eyes are closed and he’s already sobbing against his pillow, his shoulders trembling. He can feel the _itch_ to inflict pain on himself already. From his bed sheets, his hands are now clawing his wrists, thinking that if he fully sinks his nails into his skin, it could ease the pain.

Maybe if he disappeared or was never born in the first place, then he wouldn’t get hurt, and then he wouldn’t hurt anyone.

But his phone starts ringing before the thoughts get darker, and he has to sound okay and happy so that he won’t ruin anyone’s night. After all, the only people who call him at this hour are his friends; he doesn’t want to be an addition to their worries.

With a trembling hand, he picks up his phone and answers the call. He doesn’t check who is contacting him, but regardless he tries his best to sound stable when he utters, “Hello?”

“Hey, Nana.” _Oh shit_ , it’s Mark. Hearing the sound of his voice and how he says his nickname isn’t doing him any good. “Your voice is cracking. Are you okay?”

Jaemin breathes in harshly. He’s sure Mark heard it from the other line. _That’s not good._ He shouldn’t show that he is crying. He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, and shakes his head like he could see him. “Yeah, I’m good! Just watched a really sad movie.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Jaemin’s voice cracks. _Fuck_. “I’m fine, hyung. Really. Don’t worry about me.”

He doesn’t hear anything from the other line for a bit. Jaemin holds in his sobs, gulps it down, like he always does when this happens. He continues to wipe the tears away. He hopes Mark’s intuition fails him this time around, because he doesn’t want him to—

“I’m picking you up. I’ll be there in ten.”

_Please, no_. Jaemin wanted to say, but Mark hung up before he could do so. So his thoughts and his emotions begin to act up from there, until it makes him lie down on his bed again holding onto himself and crying, until he is reduced to nothing but a useless human being.

A human that shouldn’t have been born in the first place.

It’s in these times that he wishes he still had his headphones on, so that he wouldn’t have to be in this state. Maybe if he paid attention to the songs he was listening to, then this self-loathing wouldn’t have gotten the best of him. It’s too late to regret everything, though.

Time passes, and he doesn’t feel like himself anymore. Even as he hears the door to his room opening, he believes that it is all just in his head. Even as he sees a familiar figure reach out to him, hug him like his life depended on it, he doesn’t feel the warmth coming from the embrace.

Jaemin just wishes for everything to be over, that when morning comes he’ll act like nothing happened and stay pretending that his mom still gives a damn about him. But that’s impossible.

Not with those eyes glaring into his soul awhile ago.

“Nana, squeeze my hand if you’re still here.”

Of course, he is. He shouldn’t even be here, but he does as he is told anyway, just to ease the panic that shows all over Mark’s face.

Judging from the familiar road and the sets of houses they passed through, they’re going to end up in their headquarters. They gathered there a few days ago to celebrate Mark’s birthday, he recalls. Funny how they’re all going to see each other again simply because he is not okay. _God_ , he hates it.

They all promised that their next meetup would be for Jaemin’s birthday, not for this...whatever they would call this sad shit.

“You know what, your mom ain’t shit.” Mark emphasizes the last word of the sentence. It’s as if he’s spitting to his mom’s face. “She may be my aunt, but _fuck her_.”

_Don’t curse her_. Jaemin wanted to say, but breathing is harder now compared to earlier. He is also aware that even if he had the capability to tell Mark that, it would be useless. So he lets him talk trash about her until they park in front of the headquarters.

In the midst of his suffering and getting out of the car, Jaemin remembers how they used to call that place _the haunted house_ , only because it was abandoned by whoever lived there before and it looked scary when they were kids. Along with that, he realizes that they have all grown up and gotten less scared of houses and the possibility of ghosts existing. They’re more scared of what lives inside their heads now.

His legs are wobbly, but Mark is there to help him walk. He is surprised to see the rest of their friends waiting by the headquarters’ door, which is about to break soon. Jaemin couldn’t see clearly through the tears, but he could see all of their eyebrows scrunched together. They’re frowning. They’re really worried.

And Jaemin asks himself what he did to even deserve these people.

“Oh, you look like shit.”

“Hyuck, don’t make Nana feel even worse than he is.”

“I didn’t mean to insult him, I swear!”

Jaemin doesn’t really mind Donghyuck and his foul mouth. He knows he means well, _always_ meant well despite the vulgar choice of words. He manages to crack a small smile at him before Mark lets him sit on the couch that’s just as old as their friendship. He isn’t sure when he stopped crying, but he can still feel his heart palpitating, and his hands getting cold. He has shed too much tears. His mouth has already gone dry.

But at least he’s out of his house now.

The only light bulb in the headquarters keeps flickering. He is on the verge of sneezing thanks to the dust surrounding the place. He also has _six_ pairs of eyes focused on him, observing every movement. Jaemin manages to glance at all of them, even as his chest is getting tight. He had to swallow a huge amount of air to mutter, “Stop being creepy.”

And then he sees all of them loosen up, like they finally got their backpacks off their shoulders after a tiring day at school. But the looks on their faces are still the same, and Jaemin feels guilty for getting them so stressed in this serene evening. Then he hears his mom again, and his eyes start to ache.

_I didn’t want him to be born._

Now that he is in someplace familiar and homey, and now that he is surrounded with people he trusts with his life, he just lets it all out. He sobs into his hands, and it sounds like a scream that he has held in for years. He lets his shoulders tremble so hard that it aches, lets his lungs struggle for air, and lets his heart constrict so badly that it feels like he’s a few steps away from death. Jaemin submits to the hurt that comes with being an unwanted child, with being a reminder of his mother’s misery, with being a _mistake_.

_I didn’t want to be born either._

His hands begin to freeze up, but he feels warmth in the rest of his body as he feels six pairs of arms hug him as he starts to cry like people in movies. The last time they got to hug like this was also during Mark’s birthday, and they only did it to make him suffer with unexpected tickles and not giving him any form of escape. What made Jaemin remember that hug was because of the comfort it gave him, even if it was just for fun.

Now, with this hug, he feels the comfort even more. He isn’t sobbing as much as earlier, thankfully. He tries his best to return the embrace even if he is too emotionally unstable to act. He rests his face on one of his friends’ shoulders, lets the tears flow and wets a part of their shirt. He will make sure to say sorry once he is stable enough.

But for now, he lets himself be sad, and lets them do whatever they can to make the sadness go away.

*

Although the orange carpet they always used has gotten dirty, they still rested on it once Jaemin was a little bit okay. It is no surprise that they have all fallen asleep, and he is the only one who got to wake up from that refreshing evening nap.

He finds it hard to sit up, since he is caged by arms and legs. It’s also harder since he knows that Jisung is the one hugging him from behind amidst all the limbs.

See, when it’s Jisung who does the hugging, it’s unlikely that he would let go, especially when he is asleep. So he just stays there, places his hand on top of his, which is resting on his stomach.

Until he has gotten restless and did a head count, only to notice that there are only five people here and sleeping.

Cautiously, Jaemin pries Jisung’s arm off. And then he pries all of their arms and legs off, until he could finally move and get off of the carpet. He almost trips on his own feet, almost steps on Renjun’s stomach as he tiptoes out of the area, hoping that he didn’t wake anyone up.

Fortunately, he didn’t. So he tries to look for the person who has woken up earlier than him. He has searched every space inside the headquarters—from the pitch black kitchen to the moldy bathroom, which they never used anyway. After walking around for probably three minutes, he chooses to go outside.

Jaemin continues to walk on the tip of his toes, even as he opens the door. The wind greets him first, slapping his face with the extreme cold that it hurts. God, the breeze makes him want to go back inside, but he stops on his tracks when he finds who was missing when he woke up.

“Jeno.”

He says his name gently. It comes off of his mouth like a whisper. He thought he had to repeat himself to get his attention, but Jeno turns his head so quickly, and Jaemin feels his heart hurting less when he gets to see his face.

It dawns on him at that second that they haven’t talked in months.

“Jaemin.”

And it’s because they have been too busy with their own lives, _so_ busy that they only get to see each other when any of their other friends want them to meet up.

“Hey.” It comes off airy and awkward, and _god_ Jaemin hates starting the conversation off like this. “I was wondering why you weren’t with them when I woke up, so…”

Blood comes up to his cheeks. He avoids Jeno’s gaze. At least, he _tries_ to. He was about to finish what he was supposed to say, but of course, he always beats him to it. “You started to look for me.”

Maybe it was just him, but why did it sound like it also meant something else? Is Jeno trying to tell him something? His still aching head begins to wonder.

“Yeah, I was. I thought you ran off.” Jaemin says, rubbing the back of his neck. He walks over to where Jeno is, and the closer he gets, he starts to notice that he is holding something.

Since he is full of curiosity right now and he feels the dark thoughts returning, he points at his full hand. “What’s that?”

Jaemin notices him freeze. If he’s reacting like this, then it definitely is something huge. He doesn’t force Jeno to tell him though, just looks at what he is holding. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that it was an envelope.

When Jaemin thinks he should have talked about something else, Jeno opens his mouth.

“I got into my dream school.”

A frown mars Jaemin’s face, because Jeno isn’t telling him the way he expected him to. Shouldn’t he be happy about it? He did get to reach his goal; his efforts have finally paid off. But why does he look so torn? It seems as if he wants to tear the envelope into pieces.

“Congratulations, Jen.” Now that it seems like a warm hug or a friendly high-five won’t make him feel better, Jaemin doesn’t know what to do. “You made it. You did it.”

Jeno smiles, but it’s tight-lipped. He probably didn’t want to be congratulated at all. “Thanks.”

Silence falls upon them again. _It’s getting awkward._ Jaemin isn’t sure if he should ask him why he doesn’t seem too happy about it. His gut feeling is telling him to get back inside and sleep, give Jeno the space he needs. That’s why he ends the conversation with a quick “yeah,” and he starts to walk back.

Jeno grabs his hand however, stopping him, and Jaemin turns around. That’s when he sees the dark circles and the lack of life in his eyes. That’s when he finds out that something is not right with him too. He may not be fully okay yet, but he’s willing to hear him out. So he places his other hand on top of Jeno’s, and he cautiously asks, “Wanna talk about it?”

A smile graces Jeno’s face again; he can tell it’s a real one this time, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can tell that it means a yes too.

*

They decided to let their feet take them wherever they wanted, which leads them to the now abandoned, empty swimming pool in their neighborhood. It’s dirty now, with all of the mold and spider webs and dead insects on the corners. Jaemin remembers that the seven of them used to swim here when they were kids, which is why this place is special for him.

“My parents still weren’t happy about me getting in.” Jeno sits down on the pool’s surface, even if it was dirty. Jaemin just stands next to him, skimming through the letter within the envelope. “I honestly thought they would finally say they were proud of me. Not that I had the goal of pleasing them while reviewing for the test, but you know...a bit of validation would’ve been nice.”

If Jaemin had a bit of validation coming from his mom, or even just a little bit of _love_ , he would be the happiest nineteen year old on Earth. But not everyone can have all the nice things. “That hurts,” He remarks with a chuckle.

The sigh that leaves his lips comes off shaky, as he recalls the look in his mother’s eyes, and the looks she gave him before that. They were all the same, he realizes. She viewed him as a mistake from the very beginning.

And he doesn’t want anyone to ever feel that way.

“I’m proud of you, Jeno. Really.”

Jaemin carefully folds the letter again and puts it back in the envelope. “We knew how much time you gave to reviewing, and how you still kept going even if you were tired. You really gave your best, and I’m glad it paid off well.”

Jeno was about to get up from the floor, but Jaemin plopped down next to him before he could do it. Now their shoulders are brushing against each other as they fixate their eyes on what is ahead of them. Being next to each other provides them a kind of comfort they can’t really put into words.

“So if your mom and dad aren’t happy about it, then know that many others out there will be shocked to the core that you got in. _This_ university is no joke, Jen!” Jaemin slightly waves the envelope in his hand. He sees how Jeno’s eyes get glassy. “But I shouldn’t be so surprised. You’ve always been so amazing since we were kids. Even my cousin got so intimidated by you.”

Jaemin laughs at the memory of a young, shaky and nervous Mark. He looked like he was about to pee his pants at that time, while young Jeno was just staring at him blankly, wondering what was getting him so scared. When he finishes laughing, a smile remains in his beautiful face—a nostalgic one, at that.

Back then, they had no idea that they would all be here, emotions always on overdrive, miserable and overthinking about everything that surrounds them. They had no idea at all. Jaemin couldn’t even remember half of his life anymore.

“I really miss those days.” Jeno mutters, hugging his knees close to his chest.

“Me too,” Jaemin replies as he plays with the laces of his rubber shoes, still smiling.

Just as he turns his attention away from his shoes, he gets the biggest shock of the night when Jeno wraps his arms around him. He lets out a yelp, but the shock wears off quickly, when Jaemin feels him press his mouth on the side of his face once—or maybe more than that.

He just lets him do as he pleases, because he knows how clingy Jeno can get when he is emotional.

He returns the tightness of his embrace, as he hears Jeno whisper a heartbreaking and vulnerable, “I miss you so much, Nana.”

No one really ever calls him that, not even Donghyuck, Renjun, Jisung, or Chenle. No one but Mark and him call him that.

Hearing Jeno say his name like that makes his heart ache. It makes Jaemin miss him more even if he’s here. “I miss you too, Jen.”

“You know, I felt my heart drop again when you said you were proud of me.” Jeno utters gently, and Jaemin thinks his bones are going to crack from how strong he is. “I know we’re the best of friends, but if you say things like that again, I’m just gonna keep falling in love with you.”

Jaemin giggles as he gently pats the back of Jeno’s head. Ever since he confessed a year ago, he just gets so honest about the feelings he harbors for him. It’s cute and endearing. If he keeps this going, he just might fall as well.

“Okay, I’ll tone it down.” He replies.

And just like that, the image of his mother’s eyes blurs in his head, and he lets himself melt in Jeno’s hold.

*

“I was wondering where you guys were. You both left your phones.”

It’s probably two in the morning by now, and he didn’t expect to come back to the rest wide awake and looking around for them frantically. Now, he and Jeno are seated on the couch, ready to get a lecture from a very cranky Renjun. But he is not complaining.

“We were catching up.” Jeno answers for the both of them, which is mostly true.

“Yeah! Plus he wanted to tell you guys something.” Jaemin gently elbows his arm, the smile plastered on his face now reaching his eyes. “Tell them now.”

A groan comes out of Donghyuck, and follows a yawn. Chenle and Jisung yawn too. “Get to the point, we need to sleep.” He grumbles, and he yawns again, not bothering to suppress it.

Jeno’s smile finally reaches his eyes as he jumps up from the couch, spreading his arms wide. “I got in! _I got in_!”

It does not sink in at first. They look like they’re wracking their brains to know what he is trying to talk about. But Jeno grabs the envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and waves it, telling them again, “I got in my dream school!”

Jaemin watches the rest of them _scream_ and jump in joy, and quickly hug the life out of Jeno. He believes that the volume of their voices is going to make the headquarters crumble.

Chenle was the one screaming the most, the pitch of his voice about to make their eardrums bleed, but they let him be because Jeno deserves this hype and this energy. _The hype that his parents might never give_ , Jaemin thinks sadly to himself as he stays seated.

While the rest are jumping up and down—Jaemin _swore_ he heard the floor beneath them crack, two people grab onto his hands. He quickly looks up from the floor to see that it is Jisung and Mark making him join in the nth group hug for the night.

“We’re going to celebrate twice on the thirteenth!”

He hears Donghyuck screech and Jaemin laughs as he tries to wrap his arms around whoever he could reach, giggling when he starts hearing Jeno telling them to let him breathe.

In the midst of the hug, he doesn’t feel his heart ache anymore. He also forgets his mother’s eyes and his mother’s words, because at least with them, _he matters_.


End file.
